The Sacrifice of Victory
by Andy the willow tree
Summary: On the night of the Final Battle at Hogwarts, eighty-three fought, and fell by the hands of Death Eaters. Join Professor Egmont Hobday as he explores those eighty-three people who fell that night. Some where famous, some where not, some where underage, and some where adults. But not one will go forgotten.
1. Note From The Author

Dear Reader

Not a lot of people know the truth about the battle of Hogwarts. If you ask your history teacher about it they will answer that it was the day Harry Potter defeated Voldemort.

What they won't tell you is that in the end the body count on the side of Harry Potter was 83. They won't tell you about the countless people who lost someone or themselves to that battle. They won't talk about the years of therapy. They won't explain how some seventh years came back to repeat their last year, and how every student who was a second year and up the next year had to double load on their studies. How many students didn't return to Hogwarts, and ended up somewhere else. They won't tell you about the four first years that died. Or the sacrifices that were made.

Many times I've been requested to tell of those 83 that fell in the night during the final battle. Twenty years have passed, and yet I still remember it. But I am getting old, and soon no one will be around to tell you of them. So I have written out this book for you, a page each for one of the 83.

Yours Truly,

Professor Egmont Hobday

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing except the hat that I'm wearing, and several books, that's questionable, though. The book part I ment.**


	2. Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin was often seen in Honeydukes during his school career. He was there purely for the chocolates. They made him better, and depending on what was happening in his, or other's lives at the moment he would eat a certain kind of chocolate.

White Chocolate:

White Chocolate was for those times when something went wrong, but everything would end up alright. Like if a prank backfired, or they got detention for something. It was used when Lily turned down James. It was used after Quidditch losses.

White Chocolate was used when there were emotions, but the emotions, while often negative, were not strong. He ate it for the last time two years before he died.

Bittersweet Chocolate

He would eat this kind when he was happy. When everything was right, and peaceful. It was the kind he used when everything was calm. He ate it during summers, and the weekends. He ate those peaceful days after exams.

Bittersweet Chocolate was for those everyday moments. When emotions were docile, and everything was ok. He ate it for the last time early his fifth year.

Dark Chocolate

When things went right. After a quidditch victory. When he got sorted into Gryffindor. After James, and Lily's first date, and later kiss. When Sirius moved out, and in with James. When the boys could finally join him for the full moons. When Lily, and James married. At Harry's birth. Big things like that. His marriage to Tonks, as well as Teddy's birth.

Dark Chocolate was for the exciting moments, the big ones. When emotions were overflowing, and everything was positive. He ate it for the last time after Teddy's birth.

Milk Chocolate

Bad moments. The depressing ones were when he ate milk chocolate. When he was first turned away from people, after a couple of really bad full moons. When Sirius let Snape in on him. Throughout both wars. When James, and Lily died, the twelve years between that and getting hired at Hogwarts. When Sirius escaped. Later when Peter turned out to be the traitor. When he first realized he could never marry Tonks (Although later he did end up marrying her, but that's a different story), when he learned she was pregnant. When Sirius died, and when Dumbledore fell. When his mother passed away.

Milk Chocolate was for those moments when you need a reminder that there is some good left in the world. When everything is falling apart, and you feel despair setting in on you. When you just want to collapse, and cry. He ate it for the last time when he went into the final battle, and realized that me may never see Teddy, or Tonks again. His breath still smelled of it when he fell.


	3. Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin

Tonks was a whirlwind.

She was not one to be deterred. She was stubborn, and forceful, and amazing, all in one go. The stubbornness came from her mother, it was the Black blood in her. The Forcefulness came from her father, it was the Tonks blood in her. The amazingness came all from her.

Tonks never did anything she didn't want to do, you couldn't, and never would be able to talk into, or out of it, once she had decided. It was what made her work so hard, what made her fight. It was how she joined the Aurors, what was the power behind her brain. That stubbornness. In the end that couldn't save her from watching her husband fall, and like that the stubbornness fled her.

Tonks wouldn't take no for an answer. She would fight for what she thought was right, and she would convince other to help her. She would talk anyone into anything. It was what made her join The Order, what allowed her to marry her love. It was the power behind her heart. The forcefulness. It failed her when she saw the love of her life's body, sprawled brokenly across the ground.

Tonks was a whirlwind. She was breathtaking. She would leave an impression on everyone, to be fair it wasn't always a good one, but she really was something different. And it wasn't the morphing, or the clumsiness. It was just her, her humor, and fear. Her love, and her hate. She was passionate, and everything she did had some of that passion in it. For her, nothing was without reason. But in the end that whirlwind slowed. It broke apart.

In those final moments, over the din of battle if one listened very carefully they could hear a heart shattering scream, "REMUS! NOO! NO, WHY? YOU CAN'T DIE!" Tonks fell to her knees clutching her head, sobbing. She crawled forward, pulling his head into her lap. "WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! REMUS!" She shook him a little.

"Why won't you wake up, why won't you come back? Your father, Lyall, needs you, Harry needs you, Teddy needs you. _I_ need you," she whimpered, rocking back and forth, "Wake up, please just wake up. You can't leave, not now, not here. You aren't suppose to. You're suppose to grow old with me. I need you to wake up. Why won't you listen? I need you to open your eyes! Please! Just open them, one last time. Please, Remus. Remus… you… can't… you can't leave me!" And then she broke. Sobbing so hard she couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. She never saw the curse come her way. She never felt it hit.

And so the whirlwind stopped.

A lifeless body fell across the ground, the tears not quite dry. Her eyes closed, one last sob, never to be released in the chest.


	4. Fred Weasley

Some years had passed since the battle. Wounds had healed, scars had faded, life had resumed, and yet… all was not right.

Every year on the second of May, the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts people would celebrate. Generally quietly, with their families, and close friends. They would light candles and send them into the sky. They used it as a time to reconnect with others. And for one whole day it was peaceful, quiet, and sombre.

For all, except for one man. His name was George Weasley, and he had lost his twin that day. He could still remember the smoke, the screaming, and yelling, the lifeless eyes of the dead. The stillness of the bodies, how his twin was… He couldn't admit it to himself. Not even after six years. Had it really been that long? Sometimes he wondered how he had survived to reach twenty-seven without his brother.

He missed him terribly, and every year he got blackout drunk on May second. And every year, without fail, Percy Weasley would make sure he got home alright. Percy had noticed that George, normally a happy drunk, was a sad, grumpy one on this day.

All day he would follow his younger brother, making sure he didn't end up in a ditch somewhere. It was how he coped with the loss of Fred, by making sure Fred's favorite person in the world made it through the day safely. It was his promise. George would not come to harm.

And so when the two finally got home Ginny Weasley would be waiting with a blanket for George, and a cup of tea for Percy. She'd make sure they both got something to eat, and into bed. She missed her older brother so much it hurt to breath sometimes, but she had to take care of the two.

Because Percy would forget to take care of himself, and George just wouldn't take care of himself. It was exhausting, but Fred had always been there. Ready to make the day brighter, and better if it had been bad. He had made her laugh in the worst of times, and so had George.

This was how Ginny dealt with the loss, taking care of her two siblings who couldn't take care of themselves, because Fred wasn't here to take care of George, and George wouldn't want Percy to suffer.

Once they were both safely in bed she would floo to Ron Weasley's place. Ron was always waiting at the fireplace, with a shoulder ready for tears, and comforting words. Every year he would incase his little sister in a hug, and let her sob to him. He would sit with on the couch until she cried herself out.

He wished his older brother hadn't died. He wished he wasn't gone, but he had his ways of living on without Fred. He let his sister cry on him, because he knew that Fred never wanted anyone to be alone in their sadness, and least of all their little sister, and so he let her use his shoulder.

After several hours had passed, Bill Weasley would show up to make sure that his youngest siblings were alright, he'd come and hug them both, and then take them out for a drink of Butterbeer. And they would talk about Fred late into the night.

He hated opening up the old wound every year, because it hurt enough without him putting salt in it, but he did, because he understood that the two needed a laugh. They needed to talk, and share their memories. They needed to laugh, because that was what Fred would want them to do, he would want them to be happy. Because to hold that kind of grief for six years was a long time, and they needed a chance to laugh at Fred at least one last time, and for now that was when they could.

And when the two were worn out he would take them home. He would let them wearily climb the stairs by themselves, and then drop onto the couch, and wait.

Charlie Weasley always arrived a few minutes after this, and would sit next to his sibling, the only one older then him, and they would sit, and sit. Never saying a word, because both were so tired, and wanting this day over, because the grief was too strong in this house, on this day.

Charlie wanted his brother back. He wanted one last smile, one last joke, one last laugh. But it would never happen, and he supposed that was the curse of the survivors. To hold the grief for those who had not made it. And he sat in silence, because that was all there was left of his younger brother, and he couldn't bring himself to suggest otherwise. Of course there were memories, and things, and photo's, but there wasn't soul.

But he sat there, with his brother who needed him, and his four younger siblings sleeping upstairs, until they too, fell asleep.

Molly, and Arthur Weasley would always come home to the Burrow. Because this is where their children gathered in the end of the day once a year. And they would tuck blankets more securely around them, and kiss their foreheads, and hold each other, watching them sleep.

They did this every year, because they still had children, alive, and well, and while Fred could not be forgotten, he also wouldn't want them to break for him, he'd want them to laugh, and sing, and cry tears of joy.

And in a way they did. Every year.

The next year passed. Seven years. But this time the Weasley's gathered in celebration of something, rather than in mourning. Because this year George was married to Angelina, and they were expecting. And next year? Their would be a new little Weasley running around. And no one would get drunk, no one would fall apart on another's shoulder, instead they would laugh, and toast to the memory of the dead.

 **Hey guys!**

 **Just wanted to say Happy Harry Potter Day! (That's what my town's calling it). I also wanted to mention that I appreciate the follows, but would really love to know what you think, so please drop a review.**

 **This took me a little while, because it hurt a lot. I have lost a friend before, and understand what it's like, the grief part, I also wanted to look at what the loss might do to people, and you got this. Sorry for my rambling...**


	5. Colin Creevy

He had wanted to be a photographer when he was little. He had gotten his first camera at age nine, and had spent all day taking pictures.

 _He hadn't made it out with the others. He hadn't meant to, but he hadn't meant to run across three terrified first years either. He needed to get them out, and then rejoin the battle._

When he got his Hogwarts letter he'd been so excited. He had a chance to take even more amazing photos. Not only that, but there was magic. And maybe he could find some way to enchant the pictures?

 _The screams cut through the air as he pulled the three along. He'd gotten their names Ben, Edna, and Thomas. The three had already lost one of their friends, and kept sobbing. He couldn't blame them for it, even as he ducked another curse._

First year had been so fantastic, and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was in his house. How had that happened? He hadn't felt brave, not even when he saw the giant snake. But he supposed he was, in his own way.

 _He was almost to the Great Hall. If he could only get past there, and down to the dungeons. That was where they were taking all the students third years and under. They would be safe. He grabbed Thomas' hand, yanking him along, sending another curse shooting off, before grabbing Edna's again. Poor girl was terrified._

In second year the wonder had faded a little, but he still took photos of almost everything. It made him a bit of an outcast. He didn't care about that though. He was happy, and that was all that mattered. He had his brother by his side as well. All was well.

 _He saw it out of the corner of his eye, a green flash. He dropped the two kids' hands, reaching to yank Ben out of the way, but he was too slow. He heard in his mind Edna shriek, and Thomas yelling. He could only focus on the soft thud Ben's too small body made. Crumpled in his Hufflepuff robes._

Third year had been interesting, to say the least. He was no longer really staking Harry, not as avidly any ways. He had a few friends now, and was excelling in charms. He put his camera away, only taking it out occasionally, like for the Yule Ball. He got five sickles for every photograph he took. He had enough money to buy all the candy he wanted next Hogsmeade trip.

 _He couldn't hesitate any longer. He still had two who needed looking after. He grabbed them, sprinting for the stairwell, they were almost there. Just down those stairs, and they'd be safe. Two fifth years stood guard at the bottom, waiting for anyone who wasn't a student to come down the stairs._

In fourth year he forgot about the photography, and he mostly forgot about Harry. Sure he partook in Dumbledore's Army, but he was more focused on other things. Like keeping his brother, and the younger kids away from the Toad who had taken up residence at Hogwarts. He finally let go of his fascination with Harry Potter at the end of that year, after the Ministry mess.

 _Finally, he had made it. Shoving the two in front of him, he realised a sharp whistle, letting the two guarding the stairs to hold fire. He began to push the two first years down the stairs, turning slightly to see the battle raging behind him. A Death Eater raced at them. He cursed._

Fifth year was alright. Nothing really special, except he had his O.W.L.s at the end of the year. He didn't so horribly, nor did he do outstandingly well on them. He didn't care, because Dumbledore was dead, and war was coming, and exams didn't really matter anymore.

 _He turned shoving the two down the stairs. They began to duel. Neither he, nor the Death Eater held back. It was harsh, and cruel, and painful. He wasn't as fast, or as strong, but he was brave. He knew he couldn't win this. But he could give others enough time to win for him, and Ben, and all the others who had fallen. And that had to be enough, it had to._

He didn't let his brother return to Hogwarts, but he went. It was the worst year, and would have been awful if it hadn't been for Neville, Ginny, and Luna running Dumbledore's Army again. Every time they did something a small thrill ran through him. They were making a difference. It might be small, but they were doing something to help. He felt proud of himself. He started carrying around a camera again.

 _He didn't close his eyes, he didn't try to desperately dodge the spell. He knew he wouldn't be able to. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and felt his camera. The one from when he was nine. Nearly useless now, but so very important at the same time. He hoped his dad, and brother would forgive him for not making it home._

 _And so Colin Creevy fell, so young, but old at the same time. A camera grasped in his hands, and a small smile on his lips._

 **Happy Birthday Harry Potter, and J.K. Rowling. Have you guys read The Cursed Child yet? Please drop a review, I want to know what you guys think!**


	6. Lavender Brown

Lavender Brown always hated anything purple. People had spoiled that for her when they thought that because she was named after the awful color she would want everything in it. It had taken her hours to convince her parents to buy her something else.

Even Ron had insisted on getting her purple things when he got her stuff. Purple was her least favorite color. She didn't have a favorite, but she had a least favorite.

So it was really a shame that people brought lavender's to her grave. They had buried her in purple, which wouldn't have been her wish. Padma knew that.

And Padma missed her best friend. They had always been together, and they had been there for each other. When Cedric died, and Umbridge came, when Voldemort was revealed, and that last awful year at school.

Now silence sat besides her, and loneliness rested in her heart. I want my friend back, she often thought. Sometimes she whispered it, and on the bad nights? She screamed as she slid down the bathroom door, blood dripping from her hands where she had beat the wall, and her fingernails had dug into her skin.

"I want her back," she'd murmur as she struggled in her new job, or when someone asked her how she was doing. Because she wasn't doing. She wasn't doing anything, not really.

Sometimes it takes awhile to get use to someone missing from your life, someone had told her. She didn't remember who.

She hadn't cried at Lavender's funeral, she couldn't, she didn't have the energy to. Because it hurt, and that's all that mattered, that it hurt.

But every week she would go to the grave, and talk, clear away the purple flowers, and put different colored ones in their place. And she met people, and talked to them.

And things got better, and years passed. The hurt lessened, bit by bit. It would always be there, but no she had another person in her life who could help her forget the hurt that was where Lavender had once been.

She told Lavender's gravestone about him. She talked for hours the day before their wedding to the grave. Then she got up, and didn't return. Not for nine long years.

The purple flowers withered away. Padma grew older, wiser, kinder, happier. And when her daughter was born she knew what she wanted the name to be.

And in eight years after the birth she took her two young children to the grave of a childhood friend that hadn't made it to adulthood, and told them the story of Lavender Brown. A small smile on her lips as she spoke to her daughter, and son. Her daughter asked if that was who she was named for. Padma nodded.

And what do you know? This Lavender hated purple as well.

 **I forgot the disclaimer on the author's note so I'll do it here, I don't own anyone except the OC's, that you'll get to meet next chapter.**

 **~Andy**


	7. Yellamma Garfield

She had two children, ages four, and six. A dog named Rufus, and a husband who was in a band. She had a job at the ministry, until it fell. She had a life.

Her husband was muggleborn, where she was half blooded. Her children were magical. She was a Hufflepuff, her husband a Ravenclaw. Her children, Addaline (She went by Adda, her name to long and hard to pronounce at age four), and Rylee (She went by Ry, because in her kindergarten class there were three other Riley's. [They all spelled it Riley, though]) would grow up to be a Gryffindor, and Slytherin.

Adda would later work at the ministry, improving the education system, like getting kids into school earlier, even if it wasn't magical. She had to work hard, because Slytherin's still weren't completely trusted. But she made do. She lived long, and happily, and everything would end okay for her. She'd get married to a loving man, and they'd have a kid, a son named Troy.

Ry would go on to explore all of the known world, finding many things, and learning about magic in other places. She was constantly moving, always eager for her next adventure. She never settled although she dated on and off. Sometimes with a man, sometimes woman. It didn't matter, she was happy, even after she lost three of her fingers, and most of her toes to frostbite.

The dog would grow old, and have good memories, and watch over her children when she didn't return after dashing out of the house that night, her husband on her heels.

But for now, none of that has happened. She is sitting in the living room with her daughters, and her dog, and her husband, and they are watching the snowflakes fall outside, while a fire burns in the fireplace, and no one's hurting yet.

The girls are happy, and content, and if they are to cry for their mother she will come, because right now Yellamma Garfield is alive. Yellamma Garfield's family is to last. Oh what a perfect picture.

Too bad that in some years time the father will be struggling to support his two daughters, Adda won't remember her mother, and Ry will carry a faded folded picture of her mother in her pocket at all times. Yes, too bad.

Right now though, they are whole, healthy, safe, and alright. Yellamma closes her eyes a smile on her lips as she falls asleep to the soft snores of her daughters. Everything will be alright, she tells herself, and it will be. They just have to make it through the rough patches of grief first.

* * *

 **Yo, Andy here.**

 **Sorry it took so long to update, I was traveling/camping/hiking. I should be updating pretty often till the end of summer, then we'll see what's what.**

 **Anyways, thanks to guest, and Mashpotato Queen for your reviews. They made me smile.**

 **Also I did notice (Guest pointed it out to me) that I switch Padma, and Parvati. I plan to go back, and change it later. Enjoy the rest of your guys summer/winter (If your in the Southern Hemisphere)**

 **Happy Olympics, by the way.**

 **~Andy**


	8. Herbert Parkin

The five year old wouldn't come from the tree. Twelve year old Herbert was getting frustrated. He had already gathered his younger brothers, but Rose refused to come down. He wasn't even sure how she got up there in the first place.

The Ravenclaw boy sighed as he called out to his sister, "Rose, come on down. We need to get inside. It's getting dark outside." He glanced at the sinking sun nervously.

Even though their family was well hidden in the countryside, it didn't stop them from being scared. Scared of the darkest wizard of all time. Grindelwald was out there, and no one was safe. Not even the Parkin's children. So many people had already died. So many people didn't show up to Hogwarts after breaks, and summers. So many people were killed. The muggle borns were especially sacred, what with the Nazi's and all.

But none of this would matter if Herbert could just get Rose down from that tree. She giggled, "No, I wanna stay!"

"Rose, now!" He looked around again. Oliver, his eight year old brother, sighed. Oliver would most likely end up in Hufflepuff, do to his never ending patience. While John, almost ten, would be an amazing Slytherin.

Oliver gave his own attempt to their younger sister, "Rose, would you be ever so helpful and come down?"

Rose shook her head, a smile on her lips, "I like it here, though." Oliver glanced at Herbert as if to tell him he had tried. Herbert shrugged. He wasn't that athletic, he despised almost all sports except Quidditch. And then he tolerated it, barely. Mostly only because his best friend was a Keeper.

Actually of the four of them, Rose was the only athletic one. Which would later come into play when she became captain of The Holyhead Harpies for seven years, before becoming a commentator, but that had nothing to do with this moment in time.

Finally Oliver stepped up, "Rose, if you come down from the tree, I'll give you a piggy back ride, and read to you from that book you like, the one about Quidditch."

She bounced, "You promise?"

Oliver nodded, while Herbert grinned at his little brother for finally getting Rose to pay attention, "Yes, I promise Rose."

"Okay," she bounced a little before hopping out of the tree. All three boys cried out rushing forward to catch her.

"Rose!" Oliver screeched. He moved forward his arms out stretched, only to trip over a rock and fall on his face.

John rushed to catch his sister only to cry out, "Rose, no, don't- OLIVER!" He promptly toppled over Oliver.

"AHH!" was all Herbert could say before he landed on top of his brother. Rose landed lightly on the boys.

She peered down at them, laughing slightly, "Whatchya doin'?" They detangled themselves.

John shook his head, "Nothing." While Oliver snorted slightly, rubbing his head.

Herbert grinned at his sister, taking her hand, "He's right Rose. Let's go home now guys."

It was summer, 1948.

* * *

 **Yo, Andy here. Sorry about this chapter, I'm reloading it. Sorry about the fact that it was unreadable.**

 **This ones also set early in this character's life. He was around 62 when he died.**


	9. Nephele 'Nephie' Pilliwickle

Relbert Pilliwickle could remember the day he held his daughter for the first time. He had felt so scared that he'd break this precious little bundle. He couldn't help but sob a little. He'd always felt to big, to clumsy for small fragile things, but Nephie, when he'd held her for the first time… there were no words for it. He might have even shed a tear or two.

"So," he whispered, "This is Nephele Pilliwickle. I've been waiting a long time to meet you Miss Nephie."

His wife laughed, "You don't seem all that scared anymore, dear."

He shook his head at her, "I'm absolutely terrified!" His voice softened as he looked back at his daughter, "But somehow, somehow I know it'll be alright in the end."

The two proud parents watched as the little baby opened her big blues eyes, staring up at her Papa. He'd never felt more proud, or more scared in his life.

* * *

Relbert Pilliwickle could remember the first time he was cheered up by his daughter. He had lost his wife to sickness when Nephie was five. He could remember standing before her grave, Nephie's hand in his. He'd cried. The gentle, 6'8 giant had cried, his daughter's hand in his, grounding him to the world. She'd looked up at him with her big blue eyes, and then hugged him.

"Don't be sad, Papa," he glanced down at her.

"And why, darling Nephele should I not be sad? Don't I have a right to it, you mother, my wife, is dead?" he'd asked her.

Nephie smiled in return, and then ignored the use of her full name, "Because Mama said not to let you be sad. She said that you would feel guil… gultry-"

He gently corrected her, "Guilty?"

She nodded, a serious look on her face, "Yes. She said it would… eat you? I told her that that didn't make sense, I mean, how is it going to eat you? Your… your big! She laughed, and said that you needed to be happy for her, since she couldn't be happy for us anymore."

He nodded at his daughter, "But sometimes, Nephie, we can't help, but be sad."

She cocked her head to one side, "That's okay, Papa. I'll just have to be the happy for both of us!"

He smiled at her, "Thank you, Nephie, thank you."

* * *

Relbert Pilliwickle could remember when he first cried for his daughter. She was twenty-six, and marrying the love of her life. They were happy tears this time. He felt as though Randy was good man, and a good fit for his daughter, although he had threatened the man pretty well. Their wedding was a beautiful thing, and then he got the first dance with his daughter, and well the giant couldn't help, but cry a little.

"Don't cry Papa, this is a happy time!" she said to him, as they spun around.

He grinned at him, "Yes, yes, I know. I am happy for the both of you. I just wish your mother was here for this."

Nephie shook her head sadly at him, "Mama would have liked it, wouldn't have she?"\

"Well, she would have hated the pink, and yellow color scheme, but yes, she would have loved it."

She glanced into his brown eyes, her blue ones sparkling, "Maybe in a way she's here. Enjoying this with us. Happy for us. I'd like to think she is."

He held her gaze, "Your mother didn't believe in afterlife, or in having a soul for that matter."

Nephie considered this for a second, "I think that she was a very modern witch, at least for a pureblood. But I want to believe that she found her own afterlife in the end. One where I might see her again. One where… where she's at peace."

He raised an eyebrow at her, "Oh?"

She grinned at him, "Yes, Papa. I may be Slytherin, but I'm not _heartless_!"

He laughed at this, "I never said you were! Your mother was one, the man you're marrying was one. No, your just ambitious. Out to prove the world wrong, one stubborn idea at a time."

Her laughter joined his, "Even if half of them aren't completely thought out?"

"Even then, I'll still love you. No matter what."

* * *

The first time Relbert Pilliwickle felt old was with his daughter. It was the second best day of his life. He had grandsons! Two in fact, twins. Elward Pilliwickle-Dasenger, and Oliver Pilliwickle-Dasenger, born only twenty minutes apart. It had been thirty two years since he'd held Nephie for the first time, and he couldn't say that this time was much different. Although this time Randy was more terrified of dropping one of the babies then he was.

"Papa, would you like to hold your oldest grandson?" Nephie asked him.

He smiled at his daughter, "Of course I would." He took one of the bundles of blue blankets, and pink baby. "Which ones this?"

"Uh… that one's Elward," Randy answered as he tried to calm the crying Oliver.

"Careful with him, Papa," Nephie smiled at him.

He nodded, looking down at his grandson, "Hullo Elward. Welcome to the world, quite the name you've got there."

Randy nodded, "Nephie liked it. I think I'm going to just call him El."

"Where as you like a normal, common name like Oliver," Nephele snorted.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Randy protested, "Oliver is a perfectly good name."

She smirked at him, "I'm joking dear."

He glanced up, "Did you, and your wife ever argue over names for Nephie here, Relbert?"

He laughed at the question from the younger generation, "Yes, we did. We had five names that we narrowed it down to, Nicolette, Rosella, Jacintia, Odessa, and Amber."

"Wait," Nephie stopped him, "No Nephele?"

"No Nephele. We hadn't even considered it. We decided that Jacintia would be to hard to pronounce, and Amber to muggleish. Odessa was pretty, but a coworker of your mother's named her son Odessey, and we decided it was to close. We were down to those two. We argued like crazy over the two names. I was for Nicolette, and your mother for Rosella. And then this little girl came up to us, and started asking us about you. You weren't born at this point yet, but she was cirious. So we talked. And she said that she would name her daughter Nephella because it was pretty. We didn't quite like that, but we liked the nickname Nephie. So we wound up with Nephele, and your middle name was easy after that."

"Was I always going to have a nickname?" she asked.

He nodded, "It would have either been Lettie, or Rose. but I like Nephie better."

She looked up at him, "So do I, Papa. So do I."

* * *

Relbert Pilliwickle knows that this is his closest connection to his daughter, it's been a little over a year, and half sense that battle, and the two sixth year Slythrien boys have come to vist, like they do every Christmas. He's the closest thing randy, and the boys have to what's left of their mother.

Oliver, always the more bold of the two speaks up first, "She would have wanted to be here, right?" He looks so desperate. About to cry. He knows his mother belived in having a soul, and afterlife, but he took after his grandmother. He's having a hard time hanging on to his mother not being erased as he puts it.

Randy shakes his head at his son. He wants to honor his wife's ideals, but he too, thinks like Oliver, "She might be around us right now. You never know…. Even if…" He can't finish the satement. He wants to keep his father-in-law and youngest son's belief unquestioned.

Elward shakes his head of curly hair. His hands, as always are cover in paint stains, but unlike before the war when they where reds, greens, blues, and yellows, they are now blacks, greys, and whites. They are tapping out something, maybe a song, maybe a code. No one but Elward knows.

"Even if she's not here, I think she's happy, and at peace," he tells them.

"And why do you think that El?" Relbert asks.

"Because," he says very simply, "She believed it so."

* * *

 **Happy first day of school! At least for those who started school today.**

 **I meant to have this up yesterday, but one thing led to another, and that lead to yet another thing. (Basically six kids instead of seven kids getting ready for school is no less chaotic)**

 **~Andy**


	10. Eliza LeBron

_Pain._

 _Stop._

 _Go away!_

 _It hurts!_

 _Pain!_

 _Stop, stop!_

 _Please!_

 _STOP!_

 _JUST STOP!_

 _PAIN!_

 _HURTS!_

 _STOP!_

 _PLEASE!_

 _HURT!_

I awaken in the dormitories, gasping for air. Everything hurts. Something wet it touching my forehead. Voices, one's female, the other one is male. Both are familiar. Somebody shushes me as I try to cry out.

My eyes flicker open again. I'm not alone. Someone else is there. I'm scared, and in pain. My tortured throat croaks out something "Daryl?"

"No, my name's Eliza. I'm a sixth year prefect, sweety. Daryl's not here right now, but he was worried for you." the voice moves to my side. A hand touches my forehead.

"Eliza…" I trail off, confused. Something's not adding up. My brain's not working right. Something happened, but I don't know what. I was in class, and I got a slip to go to… to…. I can't remeber.

"Shh, shhh, it's alright. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you," the voice says, only then do I realize I'm crying.

"I can't…" I whisper, "I can't remember."

Eliza's calming voice washes over me, as she trickles something into my throat, "I know, I know. It'll come back to you. Go to sleep now."

I awaken to voices next time. This time it's light out. I think birds are singing somewhere. I don't open my eyes, instead I listen.

"She was hurt pretty bad. What their thinking torturing third years like that!" Eliza's voice is angry.

A male voice, the same one from before answers, "I know Eliza. I wish I could stop it, but I didn't learn till nearly four hours later. Will she be okay?"

Eliza's voice again, "Lilliana's a strong one, Daryl. Your sister will be alright."

"Thank you. Will you let me know if anything changes?" Daryl, my brother? I think that's what they meant, says.

"I will. Gabe was here earlier. He wanted you to know that he found the two seventh years that hurt her, and made them pay. He's found of her." Gabe, who's Gabe. He's a Slytherin, my brother's friend? But my brother's a Gryffindor, and he's dating a… he's dating someone. Gabe? Something's missing. Come to think of it, someone's' missing, a Hufflepuff? My friend.

Everything's to confusing, I open my eyes, and groan. The light hurts. Instantly the voices stop talking, and are there holding me. I blink up at Daryl, and then shift slightly to look at Eliza. She's a Ravenclaw. Like me.

"Ana!" Daryl half whispers, half says, "How are you feeling?"

I blink at him. Who's Ana? My name's Lilia- oh. Ana's my nickname, my full name's Liliana. That's a good thing, right. The fact that I'm remembering.

I shift slightly. Pain shoots through me. Blinding pain, it won't stop, it hurts-

"Shh, shh, You're safe, you're safe. Ana! Listen, you're okay, you're safe," Daryl's talking.

"Here," a voice says. Maybe Eliza's. Something is put in my mouth, liquid? I black out.

I'm back in the torture chambers. Blood is dripping down my face. Someone's screaming my name. Caitlin. Her name is Caitlin. I'm in to much pain to tell though. Something about this is off, though, something's not right, because Caitlin can't be screaming my name, Caitlin… Caitlin's dead. I must be dreaming, or remembering, because Caitlin died screaming my name after hours, and hours of pain. Caitlin, my Hufflepuff. My sister. My little sister. She was only a first year.

I awaken screaming her name. Arms enveloped me, someone's rocking me. A female. Eliza?

"Hey, there," she whispers as I push myself up.

I glance up at her, "I'm sorry… I… I…." I can't complete the sentence.

She shakes her head, "I know, it's alright, Gabe told me. I'm sorry about Caitlin."

"It's my fault she's dead," I whisper, pulling my knees close and laying my head on them, "I couldn't protect her."

"Hey now," Eliza rubs my back, "It's not your fault. Nothing was your fault. If anyone was at fault it was those of us that should have been there to save you two."

I feel tears well up in my eyes, "But I'm her older sister! I should have been able to do something, I should have…. I should have kept her safe, and," my voice falls below a whisper, "I failed. It was my job, and I failed her. I… it's my fault that she's dead. I couldn't help her. I can't, I just can't!"

Eliza pulled my chin up wiping my eyes with her thumb, "I wish I could tell you everything is going to be alright, but I won't lie to you. I'm not even sure if things are going to get better, but I do know that victory can not come without sacrifice. It's up to us to chose if that sacrifice is worth it. In most cases the price we pay for peace is so high, and in so much blood. Humans alone murder around 475,000 every year. When in times of war, that number goes up."

I glanced up at her, "So she's just a another nameless, faceless death?"

Eliza shook her head, "Humans are probably the most flawed of all species, no other animal kills as many of it's own as we do, and yet… we keep having hope. We keep dreaming. So while yes, humans are probably the most dangerous creatures you'll ever come across, but they are also the most compassionate, the most caring, the ones most willing to help each other. Everything has a dark, and light side. Some people let the dark suck them down, while others float purely on the light side."

"I can't see the light side to this," I murmur.

She gives me a sad smile, "I can't either, but I'm saying is that no one's perfect. People know that, and still chose to ignore the flaws that society has. That applies to the light, and darkness of the world. You can't let the darkness over power you, there's to much light left, to many good things for us to simply sink into darkness. But you also can't ignore the darkness, it needs to be fought, constantly. Right now, that's what you're doing. Waging a mini war against the darkness. In here," she touched my head, "and in here," she rested her hand above my heart. I glanced up at her.

"What does this have to do with anything?" I asked.

She laughed humorlessly, "Everything, Lilliana. It has to do with everything. We are all waging war inside of us. It's a constant fight. And sometimes we fall down so hard, so fast that we can't, _won't_ , get back up. We let the darkness inside of us win. I just beg you, please do not give into the darkness. I know it hurts, and it doesn't seem like fightings worth it right now, but one day, you'll open your eyes and be glad you fought. Glad you pulled through. And you'll be able to go on with your life in peace."

I thought about that, "Did you ever have to decide to continue or not, fighting, I mean?"

She gave me a grim nod, "A couple years back. I almost gave in, but I had some people who wouldn't let me. They couldn't help me in the fight as much as they wanted to, but they could keep me from giving up, and that's all that mattered in the end. Still, everyday I continue to beat the darkness back, though. Lately it's been getting a bit harder." Her smile didn't reach her eyes this time, "But if I learned anything it's that the light may flicker, but it won't completely go out, even if it's hard to see at times."

I snuggled against her, "Thank you, Eliza. I'm not sure if I can beat the darkness, but I think I'm going to try."

"Good," she murmured, "Now get some sleep."

* * *

 **Three Months Later:**

The place is a mess, rubble, and spells fly all over the place. Dead, and wounded lie in awkward positions against the floor. People are shouting, screaming, crying, _dying_. I can't tell if it's all in vain, or if it's not. It doesn't matter right now, though. Because as long as one person is left to fight, then the deaths will not be in vain.

Light doesn't always win, I'm not naive enough to believe that, but I'm also beginning to think that darkness can't really completely ever win. As long as there's people willing to keep the light aloft we'll keep fighting.

It's not just a wistful thought, hope is not a metaphor for the desperate. It a way of life. We couldn't survive without it.

* * *

 **I meant to have this up on Monday, but I didn't finish this until now. Sorry for the wait. We will be seeing more of Lilliana. I like her quite a bit.**

 **~Andy**


	11. Daryl Plunkett

Daryl Plunkett had a mother, a father, a grandmother, a grandfather, an uncle, a cousin, a little sister, a baby sister, and a boyfriend.

 **Shelby Plunkett,** his mother, taught him how to bake, how to garden. She taught him how to hold a baby, and how to read. The best thing he learned from her was how to take care of others.

 **Herbert Plunkett,** his father, taught him how to ride a bike, how to sing his ABC's. He taught him songs, about girls, and heartbreak. Mostly Daryl learned to never give up.

 **Hattie Plunkett,** his grandmother, taught him how to sew, how to tell a story. She taught him how to pick up a chicken, and taught him about her life, and old riddles. He learned about passion for things from her.

 **Daniel Plunkett** , his grandfather, taught him to belch, and to make rude jokes. He taught him how to swear, how to tap a keg the muggle way, he taught him pull pranks. He got the lesson to be yourself from his grandfather the most.

 **Ethan Plunkett,** his uncle, taught him to tie his shoes, to make lunch, to make his bed. He taught him how to do anything, and everything the muggle's way of doing things. Daryl learned to be self reliant from him.

 **Ivan Plunkett,** his cousin, taught him how to dream, how to chase butterflies, and ask questions. He taught him how to make up things, and tells lies. The biggest lesson there was how to use one's mind.

 **Liliana Plunkett,** his little sister, taught him how to be overprotective, to be kind, an older brother. She taught him how to fix yourself after you've lost your other half, how to laugh through the heartache, how to still be beautiful as you grieve. He learned from her how to pull yourself back up, and keep going.

 **Caitlin Plunkett,** his baby sister, taught him about kindness, and friendship, and letting the other side win. She taught him about helping the ducks cross the street, and climbing trees. He got his hope in the world from her.

 **Gabe Johnson,** his boyfriend, taught him how to love with all of your heart, how to french kiss, to be jealous, and throw away stereotypes. He taught him how to be brave, to ignore what everyone else says, to love someone more then anyone else. Daryl learned passion from Gabe.

From each of these nine he learned how to live his life to the fullest. How to be a better person. But none of them ever taught him the one thing they all hoped he never learned how to do. To die. But sometimes one must learn to do that, even when they are still to young to hold the scars of war. But through his sacrifice and many others no other child should have to bear those scars again.

* * *

 **Yo! Long time no see. Basically school started up, and so did my fall sport, and yeah... I will probably have some slow updates from here on out. So just fair warning there.**

 **Also, told you we'd see Lilian again. I also noted I spelled her name wrong towards the end of last chapter. Please ignore it, I'm to lazy to fix it.**

 **~Andy**


	12. Maggie Wintringham

Maggie Wintringham had thought of her years in color for as long as she could remember. She could describe them in vivid detail that few else could, because of this.

 **Green**. The green of the hills in spring when it's just rained, and there's a slight mist, and the sky's still grey. To her green was the color youth, and rebirth, and curiosity, and new beginnings.

 **Navy**. At age two she was a wild child, running through the hills in the area where her family lived. Playing with the animals on the far. To her this year was navy, because of the color of the sky in the summer evenings she spent laying on the lawn, and the deep ponds that she and her thirteen siblings would swim in, even if she wasn't allowed very far in. It was the color of fun, and friends, and family, and being lazy just to be lazy.

 **Boysenberry**. She went out to pick berries with her siblings, or at least with the eight that weren't old enough to attend Hogwarts, and her mother came, too. Her mother told her about Hogwarts at her enquiry, and explained that her late husband had been a wizard, as they picked ripe boysenberries from the trees. After that when they went home and had a boysenberry tart, she started waiting for her accidental magic to happen. Boysenberry was the color of patience, and learning, and new discoveries, and her favorite treat.

 **Cyan**. The first spell she ever did was to change a dress she didn't like that was bright red to Cyan. She got so excited she ran shrieking through the house, by this time only six siblings were left at home, as the twins had turned eleven that year and gone to school. Her mother only sighed in exasperation when she saw. Of her fourteen children, nine were girls, and every single one's first bit of accidental magic had been to change that dress to some color. She remembered that at one point it had been a very nice cream color. Not so much the case now. Cyan was was the color of magic, and happiness, and joy.

 **Crimson**. Crimson was the color that her eldest sibling, John, was spilling when he stumbled through the door, he had graduated Hogwarts the spring before. Crimson was the color of his lips when he finally stopped breathing after hours, most of which Maggie spent in sitting in the waiting room of St. Mungo's, with her oldest sibling at home (Karen, who was ten at the time.) Crimson was the color of the roses they placed on his gravestone. Crimson was the color of sadness, and grief, of pain, and death.

 **Eggplant**. Maggie heard her two now oldest siblings arguing that summer. One had just graduated, and the other would in the next year. Of the thirteen remaining children only six would be at home in the fall, five siblings, and Maggie. But that wasn't what she was worried about. Because Mary, and Robert were arguing. Robert was begging Mary not to go, not to join something called the Order, because she might get killed. Mary wouldn't listen. She said that the Death Eaters had killed John, and she refused to let that happen to her siblings She left, and didn't come back until Maggie was thirteen, and Robert was dead. Eggplant was the color of raised voices, and too quiet hallways, of worried siblings, and a scared mother.

 **Fallow**. She wasn't sure why age seven was Fallow. It felt right, though. Because everything seemed to be that color. She was acutely aware of the war, even if she didn't understand it. People with trunks, and tearful, scared faces would spend several months on the farm, before others would come get them. Once every two months the Death Eater's would swoop overhead shooting off spells at anything that moved. Maggie's favorite pig died. No one else did. There were now four children at home, Anna, Isaac, Allen, and Maggie. Their siblings did not come home for the holidays anymore. Fallow was the color of war, and tiredness, of stretching money to support the people hiding from the Dark Lord, Fallow was the color of fear.

 **Fulvous**. They moved from the farm. Isaac, Allen, and Maggie were the only ones to go with their mother. All the other siblings went to an Uncle's on her father's side, or at least the underaged ones did. Her mother promised that they'd have Christmas together, and that all the siblings that had graduated would be there as well. Instead they spent Christmas in a church having a funeral for Robert. Maggie felt disappointed, but mostly she felt alone. Because she had realized that her mother couldn't protect her, and that not all promises could be kept. Because the day before Robert got blown up, Maggie saw him for the last time. She asked him to promise that he wouldn't die, and that she'd see him for Christmas. He'd promised her, she kept repeating this in her head. He'd promised, he'd promised, and he wasn't here. Fulvous was the color of the scarf she wore when he promised her. It was the color of promises broken, and secrets lost.

 **Ginger**. Isaac and Allen hated each other it seemed. Because Allen was a wizard, and Isaac wasn't. The only one of fourteen children, and he wasn't magic. His twin was, and he wasn't. And it wasn't fair, it shouldn't be like this. He, and Allen argued. It scared Maggie, because didn't they see that their siblings were dying for this magic in their blood? Didn't they see that they had lost two brothers, a father, and possibly a sister to this magic? Didn't they understand that it wasn't a gift, but a curse? Because to her it seemed like all the magic brought was pain, and loss. And then it hit her, she didn't want to be a witch anymore. In her mind, Isaac was the lucky one. He left the apartment, only to be brought back hours later by a neighbor. Isaac's ginger hair was soaked from the rain. He shivered, and got in a fight with Mother. Maggie hid in her room and cried. Ginger was the color of disappointment, of misery, and insecurity.

 **Gray**. It took over her. It took over her paintings, and drawings, her daydreams, and her imagination. It was the prime color in her nightmares which came so often. It was the color of the sky, and her memories. She came to fear the color gray with a passion, worried that it would swallow her whole. She missed the colors that once were so vibrant, she missed the farm, and her brothers, and sisters. She missed Isaac, because even though he was at home with her, he was scary. He played cruel mind games with her, and hung out with the bad kids at school. She missed her mother, because her mother had to work overtime to support the three of them. Her mother was always tired when at home. Isaac became her caretaker, when mother was working, or sleeping, or whatever mother did now days. She came to dread going home, because Isaac was there. Her once caring brother was home, and mother wasn't, even if she was there in person. Gray was the color of hiding, and loneliness, it was the color of abandonment.

 **Cream**. It was the color of the parchment that her letter came on. It was the color of the paper in her books for school. She sat there for hours, looking through them, careful not to let Isaac see for fear that he'd rip them up. She began to dream of going to Hogwarts again, because then she could escape this life. Isaac wouldn't be there to tease her, or frighten her. She might be safe, safe from him. She would see her siblings again, those that still went to Hogwarts that was. She probably wouldn't see her mother, or brother until the war ended, but she could deal with that. And so she regained her excitement to be a witch. She loved every moment of it, too. Because Cream was the color of release, and the future. It was the color of hope.

 **Indigo**. She was sitting at the Ravenclaw table with her friends, Marie Lou and Elwisia, when the news came. For a second it was dead silent, and then the hall erupted. Everyone was shouting, and celebrating. Classes were canceled that day, and the next one, too. Because the war was over, it was finally over. Marie Lou's family sent the three girls chocolate, and Elwisia's older brother snuck firewhiskey into the dorms, that the three tried against their better judgment. But no one cared, because they were free, free at last from this war that was so terrible, that took so many. The ink on the letter that came from Mary (It was the first she had heard from Mary since she was six) to tell her about the war ending was a deep indigo. It was a pretty, safe color. Indigo was safety, and peace. It was relaxation after being tense for too long.

 **Jasper**. When she saw her mother for the first time in about a year and nine months, she was wearing jasper. She hadn't seen her mother since she'd been dropped off at Platform 9 and ¾ for the first time, when she was eleven. Now at thirteen she was tall, and lanky. A couple inches taller than her mother. That didn't stop the fresh out of second year from dropping her trunk, screaming, "Mum!" and running into her mother's waiting arms. Her other underaged siblings crowded around, trying to also get in and give a hug. Eventually a huge group hug happened, and they ended up in a pile on the floor sobbing out of happiness. Her mother was wearing a dress that was beyond help after that, but no one cared. They went back home to the farm, where the rowdiest dinner that the family had had in nine years happened. All the graduated siblings dropped by, and Mary apologized for not contacting them in so long. She had apparently worked as a spy, and the only person she had talked to in the last six years that wasn't a Death Eater was Dumbledore. Her mother shook her head, and pulled into a tight hug. No one noticed that Isaac was not partaking in the festivals, and instead was busy glaring at them from the landing. Jasper was the color of family, and well being, and togetherness, it was the color home.

 **Icterine**. When she had her first kiss she was wearing a hair bow the color of icterine. And the girl she was kissing was almost as startled as she was. Almost immediately Maggie apologized, and ran off. Eventually hiding herself in some bushes, where Anna, now a seventh year had to come find her. Maggie didn't want to talk about it, but Anna dragged it out of her, and then grinned. "Little sister," she said in an almost laughing tone, "I don't care who you kiss, as long as they are good enough for you. Never settle for second best, and if that girl doesn't like you, so be it. She doesn't deserve someone like you anyways." The two sisters sat in silence for the rest of the evening. Eventually the Ravenclaw and Slytherin returned to the castle. The next morning the unfortunate Gryffindor who Maggie had kissed was pranked quite terribly and had to spend the next couple days in the hospital wing. Anna sent a wink Maggie's way at breakfast. Icterine was the color of sisterly love, and self discovery.

 **Beaver**. Elwisia had stopped talking to Maggie after she found out about the whole liking girls thing. Marie Lou would spend lunches glaring at Elwisia, and muttering about how terrible of a person she was. Of course it hurt Maggie a little to have lost one of her best friends, but she could tell that Elwisia was suffering enough as it was. After all Maggie's older brother wouldn't let anyone treat his little sister like that simply because of who she loved, while Marie Lou turned at to be cruel in the words she threw at Elwisia. Maggie really just wished they'd let it go, she'd rather forget about her homophobic ex-best friend who seemed to share her beliefs with most of the world's population. Besides who needed her, Maggie told herself, she was never a very good friend. But she had to admit it was painful, the refusal. The fact that one of the people outside her family who she trusted with all her life seemed to hate her, ate Maggie up. It didn't matter, she lied to herself, again, and again. It did to Maggie. Eventually she confronted Elwisia, "Why do you hate me so much for no good reason?" Elwisia winced and looked away, she was tugging on her sleeve. The two were alone in a hallway. It was Sunday evening, and everyone was at dinner. No one would interrupt this 'discussion'. Elwisia muttered something. "Huh?" Maggie demanded a dangerous tone creeping in, "I didn't hear you. Why can't you just accept me for what I am! I haven't changed at all, and yet you seem so disgusted by me! It makes me want to hate you! I just… I just don't understand." Maggie shook her head. Elwisia flinched, and tried to walk away, but Maggie grabbed her arm. And came face to face with terrified lavender eyes, that glistened with tears. The two girls might not have gotten along anymore, but the sight of Elwisia about to start crying scared Maggie more than she wanted to admit. She dropped the arm, and Elwisia ran off. They didn't see each other for the rest of the year. When Maggie told Marie Lou, she only called it good riddance. When Maggie looked in the mirror, though, all she could see were her beaver colored eyes swimming with tears. Beaver was the color of betrayal, and emotional hurt. It was the color of lost friendship.

 **Kiwi**. Maggie was stressed. She wanted to be an artist for so long, but now she wasn't sure if that would be possible. She had one year until N.E.W.T.s, and she nearly failing everything. It scared her, because what if she didn't graduate? What if she couldn't do this? What if she wasn't good enough? She was sitting on her floor at home, streches, art notes, half finished drawings, and a scattered pack of colored pencils surrounding her, when this finally hit her. She leaned forward, staring at her kiwi carpet, wondering if the world was ever going to stop spinning, because she was her mother's last child, and she was one of only five siblings who was trying to go to college after Hogwarts (it would be another year before she'd start applying, but she needed to get her portfolio together now!), and what if she couldn't get in. What if she wasn't good enough? That was how Isaac found her. Usually when she was at home she locked her door so that isaac couldn't find her. She hadn't spoken to him in around four years. Unfortunately in her mid teenage crisi, she'd forgotten to lock her door. Isaac who was going to college in some far off place like Canada, or something on a sports scholarship would be leaving in a few hours, not to be seen again till next summer. "Hey, Mags? Just wanted to say goodbye… you okay?" he asked, coming into her room. He stared at the mess around them, before it seemed to hit him what was happening. Crouching down next to her, and raising her tear streaked face to his he studied her eyes, "You know that everything's gonna turn out alright, right? I mean you are the best artist I know, and one of the kindest people. Even if I haven't really talked to you in awhile, I do happen to remember you from when we were little." She pulled her face away, hiding it again. "Maggie… look at me," he took her chin, "I've made some pretty awful choices in my life. Choices I'll always regret, simply because I feel guilt over them. And you my little sister, who I've been neglecting my duty to as big brother. Unfortunately I can't fix that, but I can give you this." A slip was pressed into her hand. "It's my address, so you can write me. I know it might be a bit far, but if you ever need help, I'm here." Then he hugged her. After several seconds, Maggie hugged him back. So, Kiwi became the color of breaking apart, and pulling yourself together again, the color of reconcile and stress. It was the color of a sibling's love for another sibling.

 **Berry**. The color Maggie was wearing when she graduated was a berry blue. The last full day at Hogwarts was dedicated to those who wouldn't be coming back next year doing whatever they really wanted. They snuck into the kitchens for a breakfast, after sleeping in. The graduating class spent the day on the grounds doing magic, and various other things. Some dared each other to go into the Forbidden Forest. They said goodbye to their favorite professors, and there roommates. They wandered to the top of the the owlery, and set off sparks. Fake duels took place. They slipped off to Hogsmeade, as the adults turned a blind eye. A four house quidditch game took place. They ate dinner later then they probably should. After dinner all the seventh years slipped off to an odd room on the third floor, on one wall everyone carved their names. Then defying curfew they snuck to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Setting off fireworks, drinking firewhiskey, telling tales, and singing the school song one last time. They would point out stars, and remember things. Maggie spent the whole time squashed between Marie Lou, and a new girl she had become friends with, Loretta, who was in Hufflepuff. In the early hours off the morning they snuck back to a common room, not necessarily their own, ending one of the greatest shows of house unity ever. The next morning, after sleeping in for several hours, tearfully they all boarded the Hogwarts express. Only to several hours later tearfully part from each other, and go off into the world. Berry was the color of the retired school robes in Maggie's trunk when she stepped off the train to be greeted by Isaac, and her mother. Berry symbolised tearful endings, and new beginnings. It was the color of flying the nest, and being an adult.

 **Mauve.** The curtains in her apartment where mauve, and the coach was neon green, the walls a pale yellow, odd tan, different paintings, and piece of art on the walls. It all clashed horribly, but at the same time seemed to work. It was an artist dream place, but anyone with any idea of designs nightmare. Her mother ruffled her hair when she came for the first time, before asking if she wanted money for new paint. Maggie had shaken her head, and then dragged her mother through the rooms demanding that she tell her about the colors. Maggie's mother laughed, and told her about them. Not for the first time wondering how Maggie would love colors so much when all she saw in was blacks, whites, and greys. To Maggie the rooms where a riot of light, and dark greys, of rough whites, and shiny blacks. To her, the mix was pretty, but to everyone else it was a headache. That didn't matter to Maggie though, because she loved the shade of her curtains. To her mauve was the color of freedom, and control. It was the color of choices to be made, and figuring out the difference between need, and want.

 **Philippine Golden Yellow**. Maggie liked to imagine that the color of life was philippine golden yellow, mostly because she was distinctly aware that this color was what most simply called yellow, and to most it meant happiness. And in her mind the point of life was to find happiness. Which she did the summer of her nineteenth year. Mary was expecting her first child, so Maggie went to her sister, and brother-in-law's beach house for the summer. She spent nearly every minute she could on the beach, painting the sky, and the waves. Some days it would darken and rain, while on others it would be so sunny that Maggie feared going blind. But by the end of her summer, when Mary's belly was round with the babe, Maggie set to work on her project. She painted the the ceiling of the soon to be born baby's room a thunderstorm grey, with flecks of philippine golden yellow shining through her dramatic cloudscape, while the walls mimicked the ocean. Calm in some places, angry in others. And when the baby was born and brought home, well Maggie didn't think she'd ever been happier to hold her nephew, Lake Charles Hunt. Philippine Golden Yellow was the color of newness, and storms, and summer. It was of sisterly love, and becoming an aunt.

 **Lemon**. Maggie never saw the muggle car. One moment she was crossing the street, the next she was waking up in a hospital room with pale yellow walls. She was later informed that they were lemon. She learned this slightly before she learned she may never walk again. At that she didn't cry, she raged. She screamed, and yelled until she couldn't, and then she curled into a ball, and sobbed. Lemon became the color of disappointment, of frustration, and pain. It became the color of regret, and irreversible change.

 **Rich Black**. Sometimes when you fall in a pit it takes what little color there isn't to get you going again. That's what happened with Maggie. She moped around for about three in a half months, before deciding that enough was enough, and that she didn't want to waste her life thinking about what could've been. She decided to start painting again. It started off with a lot of different shades of blacks, before becoming lighter and lighter, until she was painting with all the intensity she'd had before the accident. Then putting all her savings forward in one huge leap of faith, she bought, and opened a studio. She hosted classes, and painted, and drew, and colored until her arms felt as if they could fall off. But she'd never been more at peace with herself. Maggie decided that rich black was the color of hope reborn, of not giving up, not giving in, of making it work. It became the color of perseverance, and determination, the color of moving on.

 **Mantis**. Maggie was leaving her studio when she heard the shouting. She limped as quickly as she could outside to see a fight happening. It was more like a beating. She pushed her way forward to help the poor person only to be confronted with Elwisia being the one on the ground being hit repeatedly. She stood there, conflicted should she help her once friend, or leave her. Elwisia cried out in pain as another foot connected with her ribs. Coming to a decision, Maggie moved forward, breaking it up. Once all the bystanders, and the one doing the beating left, Elwisia looked up, and flinched. Unfortunately that seemed to jar her head against the ground knocking the rather bloodied girl out. Sighing Maggie took the limp girl's hand and apparated home. There she put her to bed, and began to tend to the numerous wounds that Elwisia bore. Maggie shook her head all the while, how did someone end up this badly beat up in a simple fight? Magic wasn't even involved! There was so much blood over her mantis colored robes, that she felt slightly concerned about the unconscious girl. It was the next morning before Elwisia awoke. She glanced up at Maggie, winced, and looked away before finally speaking up in one sudden burst, "I was an idiot!" Maggie who had been sitting on the dresser nearly toppled off, "I… I abandoned you, I was a terrible friend, when you were nothing but kind. I hated you for no reason. I.. I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I just… I…," and then she began to sob in those deep hiccuping tears where you can't really breath, "Merlin I… I should just die, I can't do anything right. And look at you. Taking care of me, like I never hurt you. How can you bare to look at me?" Maggie stared at her for a moment, before reaching forward and pulling the crying girl into a hug. Trying to comfort her old friend the best she could. Eventually Elwisia cried herself to sleep. Sighing Maggie left a note, and went to work. When she returned, Elwisia was curled up on the ground, shaking slightly. Alarmed, Maggie hurried forward. Soothing her ex friend was harder this time around, but eventually she got there. It didn't take her long to realize that leaving Elwisia home alone was a bad idea, so she took time off work, and then began to take Elwisia into work with her. She had no idea how her ex friend had become such a mess. About two months after taking care of Elwisia, Maggie saw her smile. It was sad, and small, but it was there as she helped a tiny child finger paint. It was around that same time that Maggie started referring to Elwisia as a friend again. Mantis was the color of friendship, of life, and of healing. It was the color of forgiveness.

 **Lavender**. When Maggie realized that she was in love with Elwisia, she cursed, long, and hard. The two had been sharing an apartment for a year and a half now. Sure Elwisia was fine with her homosexuality now, but Maggie having a… not a crush, but a huge gaping hole in her chest that made it hard for her to think whenever she saw boys flirt with Elwisia, was not something that she thought Elwisia open to. She didn't want to drive her friend (the friend bit hurt so much when she had to say it) away. So Maggie held back, wincing at the pain that seemed to flair through her, biting into every part of her heart, and soul, until it was hard to be in the same building as Elwisia. Maggie was driving herself insane. On more than one occasion Elwisia would get home to Maggie immediately locking herself in her bedroom. Elwisia's lavender eyes would flash curiously at the sight. Finally one rainy afternoon, Elwisia grabbed Maggie's hand, a small smile playing on her lips. "You idiot," she said, "And I thought I was the blind one." And then Elwisia had pulled poor Maggie into the first kiss of many, many kisses to come. Lavender was the color of love, and beauty, and kissing, it was the color of falling hard and fast, and being rewarded for it. It was the color of finding her inamorata.

 **Rhythm**. Maggie chose this color for bridesmaid dress, as yet another sibling got married. Elwisia choose quartz. The two had been officail for some months now, but it would be the first time Elwisia met the whole family, which made her nervous, as well as the fact that the sibling getting married was Anna, who kind of hated her for her treatment of Maggie. Maggie didn't thinks she'd ever seen someone look so pale, or nearly so sick before in her life. She teased Elwisia about it a bit, before releasing her love was greatly terrified. By the time they got back from the wedding, Maggie didn't have any feeling in her hand at all from Elwisia gripping it so tightly out of fear. Isaac, the only muggle present, made a few threats as the closest brother in age, before telling Elwisia that he'd treated Maggie much worse, and everyone had forgiven him. Which seemed to help somewhat. Then he sent a wink Maggie's way. It was only later, when the two were having breakfast the next day, that Elwisia put a small box on the table, and grinned up at her, "You know," she said, "Maybe we should have one sometime. A wedding I mean." Maggie's jaw dropped, but then she was gasping yes, and kissing Elwisia so deeply it didn't really matter anymore. So rhythm became the color of soulmates, and true love, and life-long partnership. It was the color of loving so deeply that nothing else mattered, but that person, and having it returned.

 **Seal Brown**. They'd had to postpone the wedding due to the war. Both were working for Dumbledore full time. The studio was boarded up, and locked up. Neither of them knew it, but it'd be ten years before it was opened again, and not by them. They weren't together much of the time, but when they were, they made the most of it. It just didn't feel right getting married when people were dying, even if so many refused to believe it. Maggie only had one funeral dress, and it was seal brown. And she found as the year past, and Voldemort was finally revealed to being back, she was wearing it much to often. Seal Brown became the color of death, fighting, and missing the one you love. It became the color of desolation, and heartache.

 **Stizza**. Maggie sprinted through the hallways screaming , and yelling, Anna trailing her. She finally found the room she was searching for, only to burst in panicked. Elwisia looked up weakly as her love crashed into the room where her body was bleeding out. She was _so_ pale. She weakly lifted a hand, calling for the frozen Maggie. Anna nudged her sister, and Maggie made her way to her love. She touched Elwisia's sweaty forehead as both began to cry. Maggie held Elwisia's hand to her heart, pained that her love was so weak, so close to dying. They shared one last kiss before Anna dragged her from the room, stating that the healers needed room to work. It was several hours before the news that Elwisia would survive was given, and several more days before she was allowed to leave. The first thing the two girls did was head to an old chapel, where only Anna, and the minster where there to witness the two marry each other. They'd didn't want any other near misses to become deadly wounds. Maggie was wearing a wrinkled, stained shirt the color of stizza, not the wedding dress she had in her closet at their home, but she didn't care. All she new was that she was finally married to the love of her life. Stizza was the color of bliss, and exultation. It was the color of marrying the love of your life.

 **Harlequin**. That was the color of that spell, only spell that ever gave off any color for her, because even the blind can see death. Even the mute can speak it, and even the deaf can hear it. The one that everyone shouted, the one that had taken so many lives this year, too many. It was the color of the one that had taken five of her siblings, and one of her friends. It was the color that she had promised herself to never have a year be, but it's hard when you're fighting a war that you didn't want any part in. She just wanted to paint! She was an artist, not a warrior for Merlin's sake. But life doesn't work that way. So Harlequin was, oddly enough, the first and the last color she saw. It was the very last color she ever choose.

There was no color for twenty-eight, she wasn't alive for there to be a color. She wouldn't be alive for when her nieces and nephews got their Hogwarts letters. She wouldn't live to see Elwisia relapse into her self hating, before pulling herself together, and adopt two children, just like Maggie had always wanted to, and raise them single handedly. She wouldn't live to see peace. She didn't live to see the sun rise, because the bright life of Maggie Wintringham was cut short in a battle ground lit up by flashes of **color**.

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 **Hello! Sorry for the delay. Oh who am I kidding, I meant to have this chapter up last November. Whoops.**

 **As always I don't own anything that you know to be from the books.**

 **Andy**


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